Roommates
by Dewy eyes
Summary: It kind of scared him when they told him his roommate was going to be a fourteen-year-old. It scared him even more when the kid turned out to look like he was barely old enough for middle school. Still, he'll be civil. It's not like he's a total jerk, after all. Academy!fic. **no slash** (There's not nearly enough C/S friendship out there.)
1. Chapter 1

A/n: This has been sitting in my story bin for far too long. I figure if I publish it, I'll finally get my butt in hear and write more on it. No promises on regular updates, but I'm aiming for every couple of weeks at most. Feel free to harass me via PM if you get impatient.

* * *

It was a bad day.

First, Chekov had left the PADD with his homework in the dorm room, so he ran back for it. Once he got there, he belatedly remembered he had loaned it to his roommate, Sulu. Then he sprinted back to class and came in ten minutes late, hot and red-faced and sweaty, and still without his homework.

After class, a few of the cadets dubbed him Tomato Face. The name relentlessly dogged his steps throughout the day. It didn't help that he tended to blush scarlet every time the incident was brought up.

He found his replicator card missing at lunchtime and had to borrow one from a sympathetic professor. Then, he accidentally spilled a glass of milk on some blonde girl, who shrieked rather loudly. Her boyfriend punched Chekov in the jaw, hard, before realizing what had happened. The man's grudging, disdainful apology was almost worse than the injury.

On the way to Sickbay, he had accidentally bumped into another cadet, causing her to drop her delicate exobiology project all over Chekov. Apparently she had been researching the practical applications of Andorian polar seal dung, which happened to be quite pungent.

After he showered and got his rapidly swelling bruise treated, he finally got through his compulsory speech therapy class.

Of course, his day wasn't complete until someone got in a jab at his age. Yes, Chekov really was fourteen. No, he did not want any help with his homework. No, he was not interested in a date with someone's little sister. Yes, he was sure.

Now, sitting by himself at dinner, he only wanted to be left alone.

He picked at his meal for a few minutes before someone 'accidentally' spilled root beer all over it. Chekov just sighed and threw it out. He wasn't all that hungry anyway.

He still had a while before his last class, so he took his seat again. A moment later, a young woman with black hair in a sleek ponytail came up beside him.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked.

"Гусь свинье́ не това́рищ*," he said curtly.

"Ну, тогда я полетел**," she replied coolly, turning smoothly and walking away.

Chekov froze for a few seconds. Then he ran after her.

"Hey!" he called. "Excuse me, um –"

The woman paused for a moment to let him catch up. "Yes?"

"Um, I'm sorry for snapping at you like that." He blushed as it suddenly sank in how beautiful and fierce she seemed. "I-I've had a bad day."

Sympathy warmed her face. "I understand. It's not easy being so young at the Academy."

Chekov nodded shyly, painfully aware of his youth. "You speak Russian well."

"Thank you," she smiled at the compliment. "Actually, that was why I wanted to talk to you. My Languages professor recommended me to you. He said you were Russian, and maybe I could practice speaking the language with you?"

He grinned. "That would be very nice. Though I don't think you need the practice. You are very good, not even much accent."

"Well, I'm getting better," she responded modestly. "I'm Nyota Uhura."

"Pavel Andreievich Chekov," he responded. "You probably knew that, though."

"It's good to meet you, Cadet Chekov," Uhura nodded. "How are you liking the Academy?"

"Well... The work is...fun, and...challenging," he said, avoiding her gaze.

She seemed to understand his discomfort. "There are a lot of jerks here who don't recognize talent when they see it."

A bell rang, signaling the time.

"Oh, great," she muttered. "I have to go. I have a class in a few minutes."

"It's alright," he said earnestly. "I can meet you after, or tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she confirmed, "0930 hours, in the library?"

"That sounds good," Chekov told her.

Uhura said a quick goodbye and hurried off to her class, her boots tapping smartly against the smooth floor. Her retreating red dress disappeared through a far door.

On his way out, Chekov had to duck around a bully with too much time on his hands. But he didn't care.

He was going to meet a beautiful woman at the library tomorrow.

* * *

Translation: *A goose is not a pig's friend. (Go away.) **Well, I'm flying away. (Fine!)


	2. Chapter 2

"Chekov?" Sulu asked again.

"Hm?" he hummed, a slight smile on his distant face.

It was around 2200 hours. The roommates were on their respective beds. Sulu was sprawled out on his crisply straightened sheets, passing time with homework before going out with some friends, while Chekov was sitting cross-legged on his unmade covers and seemed to be staring at the wall.

He reached across the gap and poked the kid in his side. "Hey, Chekov."

"Да?" he startled out of his reverie. "What do you need?"

"What's thirty-two times fifteen?"

The question was received with a glower. "I am not a calculator. Go get your PADD."

"You're a grumpy calculator," Sulu muttered as he reached for his bag, earning himself a glare from Chekov before the boy resumed his study of the wall.

Glancing out the window in anticipation of his friends, he pulled his PADD from his bag.

"Four hundred eighty," said the kid after a pause.

"What?"

"Thirty-two times fifteen is four hundred eighty."

He squinted, propping himself up on an elbow. The kid was still just staring at the wall, but this time with a trace of a scowl. Sulu shook his head. Sometimes he just couldn't figure Chekov out.

A few minutes passed quietly, aside from the rustle of sheets as Sulu switched to a sitting position. The kid continued to concentrate his gaze on the wall, his dreamy expression alternating with a thoughtful frown.

"Either you're working a complicated math problem," Sulu broke the silence, "or you're mooning over a girl."

Chekov's head snapped up, eyes widening and mouth gaping for a second before sullenly muttering, "It's nothing."

Leaning back on his bed, Sulu smirked. "Uh-huh. So, who is she?"

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" he snapped.

"What? I'm taking an active interest in my roommate's life."

The kid gave him a dubious look before turning the opposite direction.

"Does she know you like her?"

"It's none of your business."

Apparently she didn't know. "I could give you some tips," he offered.

"Really?" Chekov fixed him with a half-hopeful, half-suspicious look.

"If you tell me who it is, yeah."

He sighed, as if disappointed. "I knew it. You only want to make fun of me."

"Hey, I need to know what kind of a girl it is!" he defended.

"I will tell you about her," he said, "but I will not tell you who."

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go ahead."

The kid got that daydreamy smile again. "She is kind, with a bright smile that warms up the whole room. She is beautiful, and courageous, and fierce. She is very intelligent and doesn't treat me like I am inferior. I always look forward to seeing her because she makes me happy to be who I am, something I haven't felt at all since coming to the Academy."

Sulu felt a twinge of guilt at the last comment, but he shook it off. "How long have you known her?"

"A few weeks, I guess. But it is feeling like I knew her my whole life."

"And how much older is she?"

Chekov thought about it for a minute. "Maybe...four years?"

"It sounds to me like we've got to get you a strategy."

"A strategy?" he echoed.

"Yep," he nodded. "Now, let's see... What assets do we have to work with?" He gave the kid a calculating look, under which Chekov shifted uneasily.

Sulu was suddenly struck by the open vulnerability of the kid. He was nearly a foot shorter than him, with big, innocent eyes and a mop of brown curls just begging to be mussed. His uniform was alternately too big and too small: his wrists weren't covered by the long sleeves, but the rest of the shirt hung baggy on his thin, gangly frame. He looked more like he should be in sixth grade than at Starfleet Academy.

"What do you think?" the kid questioned impatiently.

"Well, you're much younger than her. That would normally be a difficulty, but I think I have a way it could work to your advantage."

"How?" Chekov asked eagerly.

Suppressing a grin, he said, "Puppy dog eyes."

The kid tilted his head slightly in confusion. "What is that? And how will it help me?"

Sliding off the bed, Sulu gestured to the boy. "C'mere, and I'll show you."

After a moment the roommates were standing side by side in front of the mirror.

"Alright," he continued, "widen your eyes."

Reluctantly Chekov did so.

"A little more. There you go. Now, think of something really sad."

"What?" the kid asked.

"Just do it."

"Um...okay."

The effect was immediate. Chekov was, quite suddenly, irresistibly cute.

"Perfect," Sulu smiled, admiring his handiwork.

The kid shot him a quizzical look. "What?"

"That expression," he said. "It'll win her over, I guarantee it."

"I don't know..." Chekov hesitated.

They looked up at a loud horn beep. Sulu leaned over and peered out the window. Riley was outside, waving from the passenger seat of a silver car. Dominguez was driving, and Leila Sherazi was in the backseat with some blonde guy he didn't recognize, probably her latest boyfriend.

"That's my ride." He quickly cleaned off his bed (no sense in leaving a mess for later) and, as an afterthought, snatched a jacket from his closet. Halfway out the door he turned around. "Seriously, try it. It'll work like a charm." Then the door shut behind him, and he was gone.

Chekov turned back to the mirror, widening his eyes again. These 'puppy eyes' might just prove useful.


End file.
